The Bear and His Princess: Love at First Sight
by Mercedes88
Summary: A discussion between Rollo and Gisla about his past, current and future loves. One shot. Could turn into a series of one shots.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to the show Vikings or the characters Rollo and Gisla.

 **Author's note:** I've always been a fan of Rollo's character, but hadn't watched the show in awhile, so when I caught up on S3 and the first part of S4, I immediately fell in love with the Rollo/Gisla pairing. Which, as it turns out, has been quite inspiring for me. I think because the show gave us a great outline and sense of who they are/can be together, but didn't fill in all the blanks, my mind has been running completely wild with story ideas.

In this piece, I only dealt with Rollo/Lagertha as I have another piece that addresses Siggy's role in Rollo's life already planned. Also, I know that Rollo's decision to marry Gisla clearly included the lands and title(s) he would be given, but I think the show made it pretty clear that, without all of that, he was smitten with her, _for_ her. That was pretty clear the moment he saw her. Point is, I'm not ignoring the other aspects, but am choosing to just focus on his/their feelings for each other. Especially at this stage in the relationship. Sorry for the long explanation!

The below one-shot is just one of the many one-shots/scenarios that I've dreamed up for these two. If you enjoy, please review. If you'd like to see more, let me know that as well.

Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

* * *

 **The Bear and His Princess: Love at First Sight**

" _You_ look miserable."

The sympathetic pronouncement was made the moment Rollo, Duke of Normandy and Protector of the Realm, stepped into the bedchambers he shared with his wife.

Though, in truth – and in direct contrast to his words – he'd rarely seen her more beautiful.

Wavy strands of chestnut hair escaped the messy bun atop her head only to caress her flushed cheeks and the long column of her neck. The discomfort she found herself in only served to spark a flash of defiant determination in her dark eyes. It was that same defiance, that same determination that had first captured his attention and held it steadfast to this day. And though they were not smiling, her lips were tainted that familiar shade of red that made him ache with need.

He wanted nothing more than to scoop her up, carry her a few feet to their bed and make her forget everything but the feel of his body joining with hers.

Shaking his head to clear away such thoughts, Rollo reminded himself it was those precise actions that had caused her current, blessed state. And besides, he was _trying_ his damnedest to respect her 'sacred condition.' Even if it _was_ slowly driving him insane.

"That is because I _am_." Gisla scoffed in response to his observation as she tried to shift her heavily swollen form into a better position, managing instead to upend the blanket that had been covering her legs and the pillows giving her aching back some relief. Attempting to retrieve them, she reached down only to give up with a frustrated groan when her protruding stomach became an obstacle too great to conquer.

From across the room came a strained chuckle that morphed into a feigned cough when Rollo's fierce, but loving, wife pinned him with an accusatory glare. "I hope you realize _this_ is all _your_ fault."

Eyes twinkling, Rollo accepted Gisla's censure with good-natured ease as he moved to where she was reclining on a large chaise lounge near the fireplace. "I know it is." With a gentle caress to her face, Rollo leaned down and kissed the pout from her lips then greeted their unborn child, whispering to and kissing the bump creating all of his wife's difficulty.

Rising to his considerable height, Rollo pulled a leather satchel from across his shoulders and placed it on the floor at Gisla's feet. "Here. I brought you some things to help ease your suffering."

"I'm not sure that's possible." Gisla groused.

"Why don't we try just in case, hmm?" Kneeling by her side, Rollo returned the blanket and pillows to their previous positions then began to retrieve items from the bag, placing them on the small table next to Gisla, explaining each in their turn. "Herbs to help settle your stomach. Poultice for your ankles, and ointment for your aching back."

Curiosity momentarily overcoming her misery, Gisla inspected each item. "Where did you get these?"

"The midwife prepared the ingredients for the poultice, the physician provided the ointment, and I found the herbs myself when in the woods today."

" _You_ did?" Gisla's inquiring gaze fell on her husband. "You're a duke with many important responsibilities, _including_ the safety of the _entire_ realm. Why not ask someone to retrieve these for you?"

"And trust such an important task as the care and comfort of my wife and child to a lowly servant?" He asked as if the very idea was unthinkable. "What kind of husband do you take me for?" Rollo teased, his gaze lacking even a hint of accusation.

Gisla's heart unexpectedly swelled. For once again, by the simplest of gestures, the unassuming comment, he'd placed her far above anything in his life. Above his titles. Above his duties. Above an entire realm.

And he did it without even trying.

For in that moment, in their sacred retreat from a world that was often fraught with complicated intrigue and dangerous schemes, they were simply Rollo and Gisla.

Husband and wife.

A bear and his princess.

Eyes blazing with a warmth meant only for him, Gisla returned the smile growing on his lips as she attempted to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. "So, tell me then, my most attentive husband, how did you know what to look for?"

Rollo shrugged. "Tis common knowledge where I'm from." Knowing his wife as he did, he hastened to defray any discomfort she may have at using 'pagan' remedies. " _Don't_ worry. The midwife confirmed the herbs were the right ones, _and_ I had each blessed by the priest."

Easing herself back into the chaise lounge, Gisla watched as Rollo went to work preparing his finds. "Did you know many births in your village?"

"What do you mean?" Rollo asked, surprised she was interested enough to ask. His past and the Viking way of life were usually subjects best ignored between them. He crossed to the table laden with fresh snacks, wine and water and pushed away what was not needed for his task.

"I mean, were you present for any? Or know how they are done?"

"Not usually. That was a thing to be attended by women mostly, sometimes the father, if he was not off on some adventure." Rollo thought back as he crushed the herbs he'd found into a small container then dropped it into a pot of steaming hot water, allowing it to steep. "As for me, I either wasn't around or I was not close to the matter." He paused then added as an afterthought. "Except when Lagertha had Gyda and Bjorn."

"Lagertha." Gisla repeated, the name familiar to her ears. "That was your brother's first wife, no? The fierce woman warrior…" Gisla broke off suddenly. "What was it you called them again?"

"Shieldmaidens."

"Right. Shieldmaidens." Gisla tucked the term into the back of her mind before picking up her previous train of thought. "Wasn't Lagertha the fierce shieldmaiden you so admire?"

Rollo's brows knit in concentration as he began preparing the poultice, carefully following the instructions given to him by the midwife. "When did I ever say I admired her?"

"You didn't have to." Gisla responded confidently. "I can tell by the way you say her name."

"Can you now?" Rollo stole a glance in Gisla's direction, a smirk on his lips and an eyebrow quirked in inquiry. "You think you know me so well?"

"Uh-huh." Gisla nodded, her eyes sparkling with a hint of confidence. "I know you _very_ well, my love."

"Perhaps you do." Rollo smiled his agreement then turned back to his task thinking the conversation over.

Until…

"So, just how _much_ did you admire her?" Gisla asked, suddenly full of curiosity.

The answer came to him quickly.

 _Too much, and yet..._ Rollo paused, a frown pulling his lips downward as the bitter conclusion of his thought, and of the past it drudged up, filled the silence. "Not enough to make a difference."

Gisla's heart stopped.

Teasing aside, she _did_ know her husband.

It was the kind of knowing that came from silent reflection of carefully studied words and deeds, of shared lives, of thoughts and dreams expressed. In the relative shortness of their union, Gisla had learned to read the emotions in his eyes, the tenor of his voice, the language of his body.

With one look into slightly narrowed eyes, she could ascertain when to interrupt a sharp retort that would rile a perceived rival. A flex of his muscles and the curl of his lips told her when agitation could be quelled with a well-chosen word or if the firm grip of steel in his hands was required to work out his aggression. The slump of his shoulders indicated when the comfort of her arms was welcomed or, if instead, space was needed to reason his way back to happy ease.

And if she didn't recognize – with one glance and from across the room – the heated gaze that caused her to breathlessly anticipate a long night of passion, then her name wasn't Gisla, and Charlemagne's blood wasn't flowing through her veins.

In Rollo, the essence of the man was laid bare before her. With straightforward honesty, with no subterfuge. She knew the strength of his vows, his kind patience and gentle sense of humor. She also knew his restless ambitiousness, his strategic cunning and the decisive, and sometimes cruel, ways in which he attained his goals.

It was as if the vicious animal killing Christians on a Parisian wall and the loving man that shared her bed each night were two entirely different creatures.

And yet, they were not.

Gisla had accepted this.

Still, there was a part of him, the part that belonged to his Viking past, that was a mystery to Gisla.

She was not naïve.

She'd heard the stories of pagan rituals and guessed, if not actually confirmed, that he'd fully participated in all the acts those rituals entailed. Being older in years, she knew he'd lived a full life before meeting her, that he was known as a great warrior who fought like a crazy bear and killed with horrifying brutality. She also knew he had known many women before her, had loved and lost a rare few, and had felt the sting of rejection, the humiliation of never being quite good enough. And he'd often felt it at the hands of those closest to him, his own flesh and blood.

It only gave her one more reason to hate the world he came from.

Gisla rarely ventured her inquiries beyond the day they wed, afraid that knowing more would make her love him less. And _that_ she could not bear to do. Still, there were some things a woman in love wanted – _needed_ – to know.

Seeing him now – his tense shoulders, his furrowed brow, the haunted green eyes – Gisla had no choice but to ask, though the question roiled her stomach as she awaited his reaction.

"Did you love her, this...Lagertha?"

Surprised by the inquiry, Rollo turned to Gisla to gauge his wife's demeanor. It was an endearing quirk of hers that she often teased him in such a way. Feigning seriousness only to laugh at the earnestness with which he sought to appease her, when, in truth, all she wanted was the chance to appease him instead.

She was not teasing now.

He paused a moment, turning the question over in his mind, knowing it deserved a serious answer. What came back to him was as certain as it was true.

"Yes. Or, at least, I once thought so." Bringing Gisla a steaming hot herbal drink, Rollo knelt and placed it on the table next to her. His open gaze moved to her dear face so full of questions, her dark, expressive eyes so full of uncharacteristic doubts. "For years, she was all I could think of, all that I wanted."

"How did you meet her?"

Rollo launched into his tale with caution, surprised, and a bit wary, that Gisla's unexpected curiosity was taking them down this particular path. A path fraught will all kinds of potential pitfalls.

"It was a day like any other. I was avoiding chores, as usual. Lying in the field with the tall grass as my hiding place, I was dreaming of the grand things I would do, the great man I might one day become. Then, I heard voices and laughter I'd never heard before. The laughter caught my attention. It was like an enchanted song I'd never heard."

"When I looked to see where it came from…there she was. The most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. Hair as golden as the sun, eyes as blue as the sea. At first, I thought she was a goddess sent down to earth. And I knew right then I wouldn't be happy until she was mine."

Rollo smirked, remembering his own foolish belief at the time. "Later, of course, I found out she was no goddess. Just a girl whose family had moved into my village because the once fertile land they'd called home had been taken over by ice and snow."

"So…it was love at first sight, then." Gisla ventured, her voice barely a whisper, the hurt in her eyes swiftly hidden by long, dark lashes as her gaze lowered. "Just as you said it was with me."

"Yes." Rollo confirmed after a moment of hesitant consideration, then denied without hesitation. "And no."

Gisla's confused gaze snapped up to meet his. "I…I don't understand."

Guessing well the thoughts, the doubts, tumbling around in that head and heart of hers, Rollo tread carefully as he attempted to explain. "Yes, I fell in love with her at first sight." He reached over to still the hand that had begun to rub the swell of her stomach, a habit his wife had picked up whenever she was agitated. "No, _not_ like I did with _you_."

Gisla swallowed hard, not know if she wanted to know the answer to her question, but needing it just the same. "How was it different?"

Surprisingly, Rollo knew the answer. Surprising, not because the answer wasn't obvious to him, but because a warrior such as Rollo, a man of action, of great ambition, was not usually given to long periods of introspection. Nor was he used to contemplating the inner workings of his own heart.

But he _had_ contemplated it.

He'd contemplated it the three days it took him to decide whether to turn his back on his brother or on the destiny the gods had given him.

He'd thought about it the night they had wed, listening to her tears fade to hiccups, as he pretended to sleep, giving her the patience and space she so desperately needed.

He'd turned it over in his mind every day after, when her continued distance and constant rejection made him question the wisdom of his own decision. _And_ the wisdom of the gods.

And he finally understood why he'd suffered all of the rejections, all of the slights and humiliations in his life, all of the setbacks, the first time she held out a hand of invitation and called him 'husband.' He'd never felt it more profoundly than the first night she allowed him to touch her, to love her. And he lived with the confident knowledge of it every day since.

"With Lagertha, I saw her, and I wanted her. But…it was like wanting something that I was never meant to have. With _you_ …" Trying to put into words what happened to him the moment he'd laid eyes on her, Rollo's words were halting and carefully chosen. "…everything – my past, my future, my dreams, my reality – _everything_ came down to that one moment. Everything came down to you. Because, in that moment, I _knew_ you _belonged_ to me. Gisla, y _ou_ are my destiny. Not her. And that's what made the difference."

Gisla swallowed hard at his admission.

Relieved. Grateful. Awed.

This mixture of emotions was so unexpectedly strong, it took Gisla a moment before she could speak again. And when she did, it was half in anticipation, half in fear.

"So, then what happened? With her, I mean."

"What always happened." Rollo stated evenly, though his eyes held a hint of past injuries too numerous to name. "She chose Ragnar instead. Just as everyone always has."

"Oh, Rollo…" Gisla instinctively reached out and cupped the side of his face, trying in some small way to ease the pain that seemed to envelope him. She was more than a little saddened by the lonely path that lead him to her.

"It seems that what I felt for her, she felt for him." Rollo continued, his thoughts firmly back in that lonely past where he no longer belonged, yet could not fully escape. "And for a long time, love, to me, seemed pointless if I could not have her." A small smile danced across his lips and found its way to his eyes. "Of course, I never suspected there was to be a _you_ in my future that would prove me wrong."

That gained a shy smile from his attentively listening wife.

Thoughts shifting through key moments in his life, Rollo's expression lost the dark cloud that had been hovering over it since Gisla's inquiry began. "And as time went on, things…changed. _I_ changed, and she became…a friend. An ally."

"And now?"

"And now…" Rollo pursed his lips thinking of the moment he saw Lagertha leading her troops across the swampy land to attack Paris and the lack of emotion that came with ordering the counterattack that could have ended her life. "…now when she attacks _our_ city, she is an enemy. Other than that, she is just a girl I once knew who taught me I was capable of love, even though she never loved me in return."

"Do you regret not having gained her? Of not…marrying _her_?" Gisla wondered, unable to let the subject rest until she was fully satisfied she would never have to battle this shieldmaiden for her husband's heart.

"Why should I?" Brightening suddenly, a slow, teasing smile ghosted his lips. "When I now have a title, great lands and the admiration and love of a magnificent…" Pulling her in with his words, Rollo crushed her expectations with a wink. "…city."

" _City_? Why, you…" With mock indignation, Gisla playfully hit and pushed Rollo away, a laugh chasing away all of the doubts in her eyes.

Rollo's responding laughter faded as his eyes sparkled with something so profound, so sincere, it took Gisla's breath away when he captured her face between his large hands, his voice gentling. "What Lagertha inspired in me was desire and admiration, but _you_ …you, my fierce, brave, beautiful wife, inspire all that and so much more. Gisla, I _love_ you. In a way that makes what I felt for her like some vision that was never real. And so deeply, I hardly understand it. Yet I know it is. For I feel it every day."

"And just when I think I cannot love you more…" She breathed, her voice trembling with emotion. "…you go and say something like that."

Gisla's eyes stung with unexpected tears as she and Rollo shared a smile.

And when their lips met, she sank into him like he was her favorite prayer. Her arms encircled his neck and pulled him to her as he deepened the kiss, leaving no room for doubt where the desires of his heart lay. When they parted, it was only to breathe.

A confession ghosted his lips. "I have no one to compare you to. You are the only man that's ever had my heart." Her tiny hands framed his face, as her gaze roamed his features before locking eyes with him, a sacred promise offered without question or doubt. "And it _is_ yours. Now, and forever."

"I know." Rollo agreed softly, acknowledged gratefully. "And the knowing makes me want to go dance naked on the beach."

" _That_ is highly inappropriate." Sniffing back tears, Gisla pulled back and chastised before a wicked smile claimed her lips. "And something, I confess, I wouldn't mind seeing one day."

"In that case, love..." Rollo responded, eyes dancing with mischief. "…you shall."

He kissed her once more, a gentle, lingering kiss full of love and promise before moving away to finish readying the poultice as she silently, happily, contemplated his words.

He had said them before, of course. Those three words. Each time was a surprise. Each time, it was accompanied by a significant event. The first night they made love. The morning she told him he was to be a father. Before the battle for Paris, and after, when he was back in her arms, wounded, but safe.

But never had he said them with such conviction, such passion. Never had she felt them the way she did in that moment.

 _It makes me want to go dance naked on the beach._

The thought pounded against her heart, like waves against the shore. She smiled to herself as she finally understood _exactly_ what her husband meant by those often-muttered words.

When Rollo returned to her, she had one more thing to say on the subject.

"I don't think I like this Lagertha woman." Gisla announced suddenly, petulantly, lightening the mood.

"No?" Rollo chuckled as he propped Gisla's feet up and gingerly placed a linen-wrapped salve on one swollen ankle. "And why not?" He asked as he repeated the process on the other.

"Because she rejected my darling Rollo." Her next pronouncement indicated the subject was forever at its end. "As far as I'm concerned, she isn't worth _ever_ being thought of again."

A heart-stopping grin spread like wildfire over Rollo's lips, causing his eyes to crinkle around the edges. "May I remind you, dear wife, that _you_ also rejected me? Quite publicly, _and_ privately. Many times."

Gisla rolled her eyes and tut-tutted her husband. "And may I remind _you_ , dear husband, that in cases such as ours, a faulty memory is a virtue that aids a long and happy marriage."

"Ah, yes. A faulty memory. I forgot." With the play on words not lost on his bride, Rollo acquiesced with an amused, knowing smile before turning the tables on her. "But...what if I _want_ to remember things just as they happened?"

"Why on earth would you ever want to do that?" Puzzled, Gisla inquired, her expression layered guilt for past offenses. "I was _horrible_ to you."

"Yes, well…you had many reasons. And besides…" Gathering her hands in his, Rollo casually dismissed the trouble she'd put him through in early days of their marriage, his eyes warming with emotion. "…that just makes moments like these mean all the more, don't you think?"

A smile spread slowly over Rollo's lips as he thought back to those early days. "You were so beautifully defiant. Such a challenge. A hard-won treasure. I _liked_ that. Had you eagerly fallen straight into my arms, I may not love you as much as I do now."

"No?"

Not imagining a scenario where he _wouldn't_ love her, Rollo shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Reaching up to caress his face, Gisla's smile deepened, her dark eyes holding secrets she'd never shared before.

Until now.

"What if I were to tell you then, that, despite the circumstances, my first sight of you _did_ leave its impression?"

"Oh?" Thoroughly intrigued by the thought, an eyebrow hitched. "And what impression did it leave?"

Her thoughts flew back to that day on the wall. He was her hated enemy then. Battling her own people with such ferocity. And yet, in that moment when their eyes met across the distance, she could no longer deny he had stirred something deep inside of her.

A connection. A desire. A _belonging_.

For a time, she'd hated herself for that moment. For allowing the very sight of him to make her feel anything but hatred and disgust. For reliving it in her dreams, for the tug of her heart every time she heard his name. It was, perhaps, the very reason she'd resisted him even after he'd won her heart.

A coy smile spread over her lips as a faint blush touched her cheeks. "Let's just say that the standard by which all future marriage prospects would be judged was considerably raised that day."

"Really."

Eyes twinkling with amusement at his incredulous expression, Gisla confirmed with a nod. "Really."

Rollo mulled this new information over for a moment before proposing an interesting conclusion. "So…it may not be _completely_ untrue to say that you fell in love at first sight as well?"

Gisla's laughter filled the room. "I wouldn't go that far, love."

"Ah, but what about our faulty memories?" Rollo challenged, hopefully.

Shaking her head slightly, Gisla found that she agreed with her husband's view on the very foundation of their marriage. "I want to remember things just as they happened too."

It was at that precise moment that Rollo and Gisla's unborn child made his presence known.

"Oh!" Gisla sucked in a breath, reacting to the kick that had been the biggest to date.

Concerned, Rollo immediately covered the swell of her stomach, but feeling the movement of the life they had created beneath his large hand, worry quickly morphed into awe.

His gaze moved to her face, his expression full of happy contentment.

"Look like someone agrees." Rollo commented lightly.

Grinning, Gisla admitted suddenly. "I can't wait to see him."

"Me either." Rollo's smile deepened, his eyes dancing with amusement at the thought that hit him. Given their conversation, he just knew he wife would agree. "No doubt about it. With _this_ one, it _will_ be love at first sight."

Gisla chuckled as she covered his hand with hers and leaned forward for a kiss, her agreement a whisper against his lips. "Yes. Yes, it will."

###


End file.
